And beneath the screenshot, someone had added a caption that burned itself into my eyes:
"$6,000 a month, and she won't even treat the department to an afternoon coffee run. What's the point of keeping someone like that around?"
The group chat erupted.
"$6,000 a month? No wonder she acts like she's above everyone."
"Making that much and she can't even spring for coffee? Why do we even keep her?"
I stared at the wall of messages, and something inside me sank, slow and heavy.
A leaked pay stub was a serious violation. But not a single person in that chat cared who had posted it.
All they cared about was why I wasn't spending my money on them.
The next morning, I had barely stepped into the department before I saw a crowd gathered around the bulletin board.
Pinned right in the center was my pay stub.
Next to it, someone had taped up unflattering photos of me with a label scrawled across them: CHEAPSKATE OF THE YEAR.
The cleaning lady looked uneasy.
"Ms. Chavez, it was already up when I got here this morning. I was going to tear it down, but that intern in your department told me to leave it."